The Professor
by rileypotter17
Summary: As the wizarding world tries to repair after the second war, Hermione finds herself struggling in her new relationship with Ron Weasley and not quite understanding what is off about them. Lucius Malfoy, desperate and left without many options, becomes the new Defense teacher at Hogwarts. Lust, power, corruption, and betrayal come to define the relationship they begin.
1. After the War

**A/N: This is a collaborative fic with Benkins1 and myself. Not only was he my Beta for this, but also is a great friend and the creator of the idea for this story. We both hope you enjoy it!**

**August, 1998**

**~o0o~**

"Ron…right there…no, _there_…" Hermione shifted her body slightly so the pressure of Ron's too-rough fingers poking their way around her clitoris but never exactly on it was eased. She was lying on her back on his small, twin-sized bed, in the darkness of his bedroom. It was late, but Hermione had lost track of the time. It felt like they had been doing this for hours; it always seemed to feel like that lately.

"Mmm…sorry, here?" Ron was slightly out of breath, and Hermione could tell he was also a bit frustrated. Instead of rubbing her hooded nub that was aching from lack of any touch, he slipped a finger inside of her a bit too forcefully, wiggling it around as if looking for something, "Do you like that?"

"Yes…" Hermione bit her lip and lied. Lying was easier than explaining to him what to do, because she really didn't know how this was supposed to work either. This was the fourth time they had had sex, and although it was much less painful so far than the first, Hermione just didn't understand it. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been out of town for two weeks visiting Charlie in Romania, which had left Hermione and Ron, as a new couple, plenty of time to experiment, but Hermione always found she wished she could speed up these times.

When Ron jammed another, and then _another _finger into her, she jolted back to reality, looking up at him hovering over her, she smoothed back some red hair that had fallen into his face and leaned up to kiss his temple. He was _trying,_ she had to give him that. He responded back with an endearing smile and Hermione did her best to smile as well, pulling him closer to her in hopes that he would take his fingers out of her and just simply stop whatever he thought he was doing right down there. It certainly didn't feel right on her end.

"Ready?" Ron's brow was furrowed. Hermione spread her legs a bit and arched her back, more so to get away from the lumps in his old bed than wanting to get closer. She reached her hand down and wrapped it around his cock, helping to guide him into her. It burned a bit when he entered her, as she wasn't very wet, but he managed to push inside of her, grunting, before finally laying on top of her.

"Ron!" She squirmed, uncomfortable, and he immediately got the hint, blushing a bit as he lifted his chest from hers to stop crushing her. He grabbed each of her breasts, a bit too roughly, and started thrusting inside her in a rhythm that made no sense to Hermione. She tried to meet his thrusts by rolling her hips, but they never could get in sync with each other.

Sometimes it felt good. Maybe one thrust would just barely graze something inside her and make her sigh, but it was always fleeting. Some moments he would thrust into her so fast, so manically, that all Hermione could focus on were the sounds of slapping skin and a dull soreness from the friction between her legs. Other moments, when Ron was trying to make himself last longer by stopping, all Hermione wanted him to do was to move. And she told him so. But it was never quite right.

"Baby, are you okay? Are you…are you going to…_y'know_?" Ron asked. Hermione found it both humorous and a bit bizarre that neither of them said words like 'cum' or 'pussy' or 'cock' to each other. But truthfully, she could never imagine saying such things aloud. They just fumbled around, almost politely at times, twisting in the sheets of his bed, kissing when they could, their teeth knocking together when he would decide to push into her again.

Ron picked up his pace again, locking his arms so that he allowed her more room to breath. Hermione moaned, giving him an imperceptible headshake. Honestly, she wasn't sure she was going to come. She wasn't even sure she had yet. Ever.

Hermione placed both of her hands on the back of Ron's neck and closed her eyes, trying to be in the moment. A few more jolts of pleasure made her body hum, but they never amounted to anything greater. She only opened her eyes again when she felt Ron slide out of her, make a noise somewhere between a cough, grunt, and a moan, and spill himself onto the bed sheets. Hermione didn't bother to watch and instead, just laid there, listening to him. A moment later, just as he had done every other time, Ron crawled over to her until he was right next to her, planted a sloppy, sleepy kiss on her lips, draped an arm around her, and fell asleep.

Hermione pulled the covers up over the both of them, and held his hand to her chest. She felt safe with Ron, and she had to admit, sleeping next to him was nice, but she couldn't help but feel as if there was something missing.

She thought back to their first kiss—shared in the Chamber of Secrets on the last day of the second wizarding war. They had been together ever since. For both of them, it seemed a natural transition. Hermione had always wanted him, and Ron's love for her grew exponentially by the day when he soon realized he was just being thick for years and had always cared about her. His parents were happy, and her parents, once she found them and returned them to their normal state with some help, were overjoyed that she had found love amidst such destruction. The aftermath of the war somehow made everything good seem to nearly glow. Everyone was holding onto any shred of light they could-the Weasleys especially. The death of Fred had rocked all of them, and Hermione still cried about it some nights, especially when George came for dinner and his missing ear brought back memories. She knew that Mrs. Weasley saw her relationship with Ron and Harry's with Ginny as a more than welcome distraction. She doted upon the four of them, and now that Fleur was pregnant, another happy distraction was added to the mix.

When Charlie had extended an offer to his parents to stay with him in Romania for a few weeks, they jumped at the chance. However, Hermione had no idea it would be the start of her and Rons' physical relationship. She was closer than she ever had been with Ginny, and she knew that the youngest Weasley and her best friend had started down that road almost right after the war-and were blissfully happy about it. Hermione didn't know if she was alright with it, but she knew she had no room to judge. They were all children of war and in everyone's eyes, were now old enough to do whatever they pleased.

In the back of her mind, Hermione always guessed that the realization was there, that she knew sex was going to be a part of the equation sooner or later. She loved being with Ron and kissing him. It felt easy and natural. But things moved so quickly. There hadn't been any dating—they just started sprinting down a path together that Hermione could only assume ended with marriage.

Rushing things was a side effect for everyone—the uncertainty of the time they all had left during the war was causing rash decisions to be made left and right in the present. Hermione was not immune to this feeling and knew she might never be. She had seen so many die-Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Lavender…even though the war was over, how long did they really all have? Would it happen again?

She snuggled closer to Ron and thought about going back to school. In two weeks time, she would return to Hogwarts. Immediately after the battle, she swore she would never go back-the destroyed façade of the castle was too painful to look at—there were too many horrible memories in those halls. Harry and Ron were immediately offered apprenticeships as Aurors in training after the final battle, as was Hermione. She turned it down without even really considering it. It was her boyfriend and best friends' dreams to become Aurors, but she only fought because she had to.

Because of this, it wasn't long before Hermione reconsidered her initial thoughts and decided to return to Hogwarts to finish out her last year. Ginny was going as well, but neither was sure who else would come. Minerva McGonagall, now the Headmaster, had made it very clear that she would make sure the best education was provided to those who wanted to return, but it certainly wasn't necessary. The castle was being rebuilt all summer, but it still would not be back to normal.

But if Hermione was being honest with herself, she wanted to go back to school to avoid the celebrity the war had thrust upon her. She hated being stopped with Ron if they were out in Diagon, having dozens of pictures snapped of them and then turned into headlines the next day. She wanted her normal life back. And above all of that, she hoped that some space from Ron might increase their sexual chemistry, or at least give her time to read up on what the bloody hell she was supposed to be doing in bed.

**~o0o~**

Lucius Malfoy sat alone in what was left of his study in Malfoy Manor. The paintings had been confiscated from the Ministry during various Auror raids before and after the ending of the war, as had his other valuables. He still didn't have a wand, although he was hoping to rectify that as soon as possible. It seemed unlikely, however, since the Ministry had placed him under a probationary period. After multiple trials at the beginning of the summer, right after they were discovered hiding in their South of France home after defecting at the end of the final battle, Narcissa and Draco were deemed innocent and still had most of their rights. Lucius, on the other hand, bore the brunt of the punishment for his family, but he knew he would do it again if necessary. That final day of the war had made so many things clear to him-especially that his family came first, and he had seriously jeopardized their lives for a fleeting taste of power.

But even though his wife and son had a reprieve, things had changed so severely. Various Aurors watched the Manor on a daily basis- as they told Lucius, in case he 'had a change of heart'. He scoffed at this as he took another long swig from his whiskey, his eyes slowly glazing over as he looked around the dark, almost empty room. Every bit of their property, including priceless family heirlooms had been taken, stripped with magic, and either given back to Lucius, useless, or trashed. Some of the items, such as the goblin silver, he sold to cover expenses, as currently, and the Malfoy family fortune was on its last legs. Not only had the trials sucked up funds, but also the Ministry had seized what was left. For the first time in his life, Lucius Malfoy was poor and in need of a job.

"Damn it all," he grumbled to himself.

To compound his misfortunes, Narcissa barely spoke to him. She kept to her side of the empty Manor and if she did join him for a meal, her look was always one of constant disappointment. Lucius ached inside. He had been a terrible husband and father for almost two decades, and giving up his place in the ranks of Voldemort at the bitter end just was not enough. He knew it probably would never be.

Although he had made a few inquiries about possible jobs, Lucius found that he no longer had many friends. One of his last, true friends, had died in the war, and now almost everyone turned his back on him. A Dark Mark, a stint in Azkaban, and cowardice resulted in closed doors everywhere he turned. So, that afternoon, as he finished his glass of whiskey, Lucius wrote a letter. It was his last possible hope, and there was a very slim chance that it would even be answered.

**~o0o~**

"I would say you were looking well, Lucius, but I have never been one to lie."

Minerva McGonagall pursed her lips, regarding the man before her in her thick Scottish brogue before waving her hand for him to sit. She peered over her small glasses at him, the letter he sent was open and on the table between them.

"You've made great progress on the castle and the grounds," Lucius searched for anything to converse with her, trying his best to be polite. He felt incredibly humbled, sitting before a woman who had once taught him, whom he had gone toe-to-toe with in the final battle, and lost to. His hair was cropped to his shoulders, and not pulled back, and he was wearing simple black robes, nothing showy. The circles under his eyes were prominent, but Minerva was not completely willing to find sympathy for him yet.

"No thanks to you and your lot."

"They aren't 'my lot' anymore. And if they were, I would not have written to you," Lucius replied, trying to keep his voice even.

"How do I know that history isn't repeating itself? If the Death Eaters were to rise up again, would you not join them? In both wars you deserted when things didn't quite go your way…" her eyes were scrutinizing every movement on his body and the slightly pained expression on his face.

"My family is more important than that, a fact I should have realized years ago. As you know, Draco will be finishing his last year here and I need a job to support him and my wife. No one else will even look at me…" Lucius felt himself teetering on the borderline of begging and it hurt his Slytherin pride immensely.

"With good reason," Minerva scoffed.

"It can be under any stipulations you see fit. It can be probationary. The rest of my life is, so what is one more thing?" A hint of sarcasm was apparent in Lucius' voice, which made Minerva crack a very small smile. She sat back in her headmistress chair, considering her options for a moment. After the end of the war, nearly half of the staff had left. Their potions Professor had been murdered and the grounds were a mess. Barely anyone wanted to stay on besides herself, Hagrid, Trelawney, and Flitwick. Hogwarts was in desperate need of help and she could not recruit Professors fast enough, even if the enrollment was one third of what it used to be. The longer she deliberated, the more smug Lucius began to look. They both needed each other.

"Fine. What position were you hoping for? You may not know, but Argus has retired…" Minerva suggested with a twinkle in her eyes.

"I was thinking more along the lines of Defense Professor."

"Ha! Oh my…" Minerva gasped, clutching her hand to her chest, "A Death Eater as a Defense Professor? We might as well give up and send the children to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang and close the doors!"

"Former Death Eater," Lucius locked his jaw, holding firm on his request as Minerva came down from her tizzy, "The few young men and women that are brave enough to return here have probably severely disabled other Death Eaters in the final battle and would have no reason to be scared of me. No Dark Magic, I promise."

Minerva pursed her lips again, "Potions might be better suited for you, for now." Lucius cocked an eyebrow at her suggestion, "Severus was much more adept."

"I seem to remember Slughorn giving you rather high marks…"

"Only because Severus did most of my assignments," Lucius countered, which made Minerva sigh in exhaustion.

"You will teach Defense classes to the 6th and 7th years only. They will be combined in one class. I will teach the younger years until you can prove that you aren't a loose canon, and only _if _you can. You will also teach potions. All years. You will live on the grounds and will have twice weekly meetings with me. Your salary for the Defense class will go back into Hogwarts to help rebuild, but you can do what you wish with your potions salary. Am I clear?" Minerva asked when she had finished her stipulations.

"Crystal. And about my wand?" He asked, satisfied enough with the arrangement, and honestly surprised she even agreed.

"Ah, yes, I heard about that. Pity. On the first day of classes report to me and I will have one for you…and the books you will teach from. And you will not stray from the material, especially in Defense. Half of them still have N.E.W.T.S to take this year," Minerva pushed her chair away from the desk, standing up and prompting Lucius to do so as well.

"Thank you Minerva. I cannot explain to you how thankful I am," he told her, inclining his head.

"Do not try. Just show me. And do not make me regret it."

**A/N: Thanks so much for reading! We would both appreciate your reviews and follows!**


	2. Distance

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and follows and favorites. Seriously, we are so happy and pleased! Reviews definitely make the next chapters come faster, and since the publishing of the first, Benkins1 and I have been hard at work for this one! Enjoy! XOXO**

**~o0o~**

When Lucius returned home from his meeting with Minerva, he was eager to talk to his wife and tell her that they shouldn't have to keep selling heirlooms. They had not had a real conversation lasting more than five minutes in a month, but he hoped this news might make her less cold towards him. When he reached the landing at the top of the grand staircase, he took a left instead of his usual right, pleased to see that a light was on in the chamber Narcissa now claimed as her bedroom.

When he got closer, he realized that her door was ajar, but instead of raising his hand to knock or even just entering, he just stood still, looking for any sign of her through the gap. A moment later, he saw her come out from the en-suite bathroom, wrapped in a towel. This sight rooted him to the ground, and he leaned his head against the wall so he could get a better vantage point.

He watched as his wife gracefully walked across the room to her closet and opened it, still holding the towel around her as she decided what to wear. Lucius' eyes raked down her half-covered form, from her wet golden hair, to her thin, shapely legs, and had to suppress a groan. They had not been intimate since before the final battle, and now, as summer was retreating, he could not believe he had lasted this long without her touch.

Suddenly, she dropped her towel and it pooled around her small feet. Lucius smiled and bit back an involuntary noise, feeling himself stiffen in his trousers at the sight of her flawless back, the dimples right above her hips, and her round arse. She never seemed to age, and he realized how lucky he was, even if now he had to resort to voyeurism just to see it. The voice in the back of his head told him he should have realized just how lucky he was a long time ago, and Lucius, for once, agreed. Especially when she pulled out a black, lace-covered bra from one of the drawers in her closet and he watched as her nimble, red-tipped fingers fastened it. Even more blood rushed to his cock as he wished she would just turn around.

He finally gave in to palming his erection, slowly rubbing himself and letting the layers of fabric between his hand and his skin provide him with some friction. Lucius watched when his wife slipped on sexy panties that matched her bra perfectly and an emerald green garter belt. Narcissa turned half-way toward him as she slipped on a sheer black thigh-high and fastened the garter clip to it, then repeated with the other leg, balancing her foot on the tufted chair by her vanity. As he watched her hands carefully run up her thighs and he pressed the heel of his palm against himself, he moaned.

Narcissa's sharp, vivid blue eyes were fixed on the door instantly, "Lucius?"

He had no choice but to enter the room, finding it hard to look her in the eye as hers trailed down to the prominent bulge in his pants. "Why were you watching me?" she asked, staring at him coldly. He had to will himself to not look at her body as she slipped on a pair of black high heels. He noted, with another rush to his cock, that those were his favorite heels of hers—the ones he used to make her wear to bed, with nothing else.

"I just arrived home and wanted to tell you something, but I found you were…indecent…" he said, trying to keep his chin up, and address her as he should instead of ogling her.

"Yes, Lucius, I am. But yet, you decided to watch me dress?" The left corner of her mouth quirked up and she took a step into his personal space.

"You are my wife. You never minded it before..."

"Yes, I am your wife, but isn't it obvious that things have changed?" She placed one hand on her hip, as her cool eyes looked him over; his bulge had grown.

"Why, Narcissa, do you need to wear something like this under your clothes to dinner if, as you say, 'things have changed'?" His voice rumbled, husky and laced with lust, and she smiled at how he was holding onto hope that her lingerie might be for him.

"I'm dining out, actually, with the very few friends that haven't disassociated themselves with me because of you." After she spoke, she took one last step forward, which covered the last of the space between them. Lucius groaned when her nipples, poking through her thin bra, grazed against his shirt and her pelvis locked with his, pressing against his insistent erection. His hand instinctively reached to around to the small of her back, but she swatted him away as she whispered in his ear, "But just because we are poor now, doesn't mean I should have to dress like I am, does it?"

Lucius was overcome with desire, anger and guilt, but he willed himself not to kiss her or touch her. He knew he could so easily pin her down on her bed and take her, and he wanted to so badly. But he had no inclination to ever take a woman against her will; even when Voldemort had offered him captive mudbloods before he killed them, he refused and left them for Greyback or Yaxley. He wanted _his_ women to want him back.

"And besides," Narcissa laughed, as she backed away from Lucius and moved to grab a black sheath from her closet, "I like knowing you regret that you have ruined this, even if only physically," she looked pointedly at his crotch and then slipped on her dress. It fit her like a glove and Lucius tried to hold himself together when she asked him to zip her into it. His hands tugged the zip up and over her smooth skin and when he was finished, she gave him an insincere kiss on the cheek and left the room.

When he was sure she was gone, Lucius closed the door to her bedroom behind him and unzipped his pants, sighing in relief when he pulled out his aching cock. He stroked himself a few times, the length throbbing in his palm, so hard from watching his wife and then being teased by her. As he watched some pre-cum leak from the head of his cock, he realized just how long it had been since he had come.

He reached out his left arm, bracing it against one of the mahogany posts of Narcissa's bed and continued to stroke himself, his heart racing. He thought of the black lace against her bare skin, of the way she had just torturously rubbed against him. He thought of the rare occasion when she would get on her knees before him and suck his cock.

"Fuck…" he growled, gripping his cock a little harder, stroking faster. He started thrusting into his hand and a moment later, he came, spilling himself onto the dark green satin sheets of her bed. As he caught his breath, it gave him a bit of satisfaction to see what he did, but he soon made it disappear with a bit of wandless magic before zipping himself back into his trousers.

**~o0o~**

"Good morning, Draco," Lucius looked up from his breakfast the next morning at his son sitting down. A house elf placed food in front of the younger blonde man, who was dressed in a black suit. Lucius saw his son had something clutched in his hand but before he could ask what it was, Draco slid it over to his parents.

"I'm so proud of you, darling," Narcissa smiled and Lucius watched with envy as her usually cold face became warm and beautiful, as it did only for Draco now, and never him.

"Letters arrived this morning. I wonder who Head Girl is, probably Granger," Draco scoffed, putting some jam on his toast as Lucius looked down at the shining Head Boy badge. He had only ever been a Prefect, but was immensely proud of his son.

"Congratulations," Lucius nodded to Draco, and then cleared his throat, "I also have some news of my own…"

Narcissa reached her hand across the table and patted the back of Draco's hand with hers, purposefully avoiding Lucius' statement, but he continued anyway, "I was offered a job at Hogwarts this year, teaching potions and sixth and seventh year defense."

He wasn't surprised when Narcissa didn't speak, although he saw her body tense just slightly, but was rather surprised that Draco didn't react negatively.

"Good, that's two less N.E.W.T.S I will have to worry about," Draco shrugged, carrying on with his meal. Lucius didn't feel like telling him that going easy on him would certainly make him eligible to be fired because it was at least some form of an acknowledgement that he was trying for them, to make their lives better.

"I will be living in the castle, and I will be moving there in a few days," Lucius finished, which caused Narcissa to hum noncommittally in response, although he wondered if she would be pleased. Last night she returned right before sunrise, and she looked a bit worse for wear. He tried to force himself to not dwell on what she was doing instead of spending time with him.

"I'm going to Diagon to get some things this afternoon," Draco interrupted, and it was clear to Lucius that his announcement had lost all of his shine. Draco didn't phrase it as a request, but rather a statement for money. Lucius promised his son what he needed would be taken care of and finished his tea.

**~o0o~**

"Pick out anything you want, it's on the house, ladies," George Weasley beamed when his sister and Hermione walked into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He embraced both of them before gesturing around to some of their new products. The large place was understaffed, less vibrant than it used to be, and not very crowded, but a massive war could do that to any establishment. Most of Diagon Alley had suffered before the climax of the war and the street as a whole was struggling to get back on its feet. George, however, looked as happy as he could be. He spent as many hours as possible at the shop, because it simultaneously reminded him of his twin and kept him busy enough to temporarily forget.

"It's looking great in here, George," Hermione smiled. Her arms were laden with her book purchases, which George chivalrously swept away from her so she was free to browse.

"I am working on a special line you might be particularly interested in, Hermione. Fred and I started the testing for it…a while ago," his voice cracked a bit, but he continued on, "Its an addition to the WonderWitch line…toys, lubricant…"

"George!" Hermione flushed.

"Nothing wrong with experimenting, Granger, it might give you and my brother a much needed push in the right direction…" George laughed a bit, but Hermione was still as red as Luna Lovegood's radish earrings. Ginny was perusing some Daydream Potions, poorly trying to hide her laughter.

"What do you…how would you…?" Hermione couldn't form a complete sentence. She and Ron never talked about sex during daylight hours, and she certainly didn't feel like having a conversation about it with his older brother.

"Mum and Dad have been gone _and_ I sleep in the room below Ron's…in case that slipped your mind…" George grinned, "Pretty easy to put two and two together." Ginny nearly dropped the vial she was holding in her fit of silent laughter, but tried to calm herself down before Hermione turned back her way.

"Thanks George, but I think I will have to decline. Ginny, come on, we need to stop by the Apothecary before we head back…" Hermione grabbed her bags from the top of the counter where George had placed them, and yanked on Ginny's sweater-sleeve, completely mortified.

Soon, the two girls were out in the August sunshine again, heading to the Apothecary. There was a definite lack of people on the streets, and even fewer Hogwarts students. Usually, at this time of the year, a week before term, the street was packed with wide-eyed first years picking out their animal, or fourth years grabbing ice cream from Florean Fortescues. Now, everyone was quickly finishing errands, and no one lingered.

The old bell above the Apothecary door tinkled when Ginny and Hermione walked in, the latter going for the shelves to the right to replenish for the term. As she pulled out her list for the required ingredients, she asked Ginny, "I wonder who will be teaching potions…the letter McGonagall sent says 'to be determined.'"

"Same goes for Defense…" Ginny said, and then bit her lip in concentration as she crouched down to the lowest shelf, looking for some black beetle eyes. When both girls had what they needed, they headed toward the plump witch behind the counter to pay, but a snide chuckle behind them made Ginny turn her head.

Draco Malfoy and a tall, brown-haired friend of his were staring at Hermione and Ginny. Ginny set her ingredients down and walked over to the sneering blonde.

"Something funny, Malfoy?" Ginny asked.

"Only the fact that now you have to report to me as a Prefect," Draco smiled smugly at the redhead, who narrowed his eyes at him when he showed her his Head Boy badge.

"No worries, I can report to Hermione instead," Ginny flipped her hair over her shoulder as Hermione cautiously walked over to them, keeping her distance from Draco.

"Haven't you and your cowardly father caused Ginny and her family enough problems? Just grow up Draco, the war is over," Hermione told him, crossing her arms. His silent friend looked as if he were about to laugh again.

"If I were you, Granger, I wouldn't insult your new Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions professor like that. Not if you want to keep those perfect marks," Draco laughed, causing both Hermione and Ginny to lose the color in their cheeks.

**~o0o~**

At the end of the week, when Lucius finished moving into his small but comfortable bedroom adjacent to the Defense classroom, he made his way up to the Headmistress's office to meet with Minerva. The click of his shiny black dress shoes was the only noise in the long first floor hallway of the castle before he reached the winding staircase to Minerva's office.

"Settled in, are we?" Minerva was bustling around her office and the place looked markedly different from when Lucius was there only a few days prior. It was then clear to him that she had replaced Dumbledore's things with her own, and was now just making the transition complete. The only thing of Dumbledore's now remaining was Fawkes' empty cage.

"It's clean, at least," Lucius said about his room as Minerva moved toward a cabinet to his left and pulled out what appeared to be a wand sleeve. She set it on her desk and he moved forward for a closer look. She pulled a wand out of the sleeve and handed it to Lucius.

"Black walnut, thirteen inches, with a core of crushed Basilisk scales. Fitting, don't you think?" Minerva remarked when Lucius took the wand for the first time. He truthfully hadn't been expecting much, and certainly could have done with any wand, as he was skilled enough. However, the moment he held it firmly, he felt a rush of magic flow through him. He had missed that feeling, and although it wasn't as powerful as it had been whenever he had held his previous wand, it was encouraging.

"Thank you," he said stiffly, slipping the wand into the inside pocket of his robes.

"I still have my doubts about you, Lucius. You certainly won't live up to previous Defense professors. And you certainly will never adequately replace Severus," Minerva sighed, sitting down behind her desk.

"You are correct about Severus, but your predecessor employed a werewolf and a con-artist, and couldn't identify a criminal nor Voldemort himself, when they had commandeered the position. I think I am more than qualified, to say the least," Lucius told her, his air of entitlement apparent.

"We'll see, Lucius," she said, handing him a stack of papers, "Here are your rosters. Classes start Monday morning at nine."

She ushered him out of her office, and Lucius headed down the steps, looking over his class lists. He hardly recognized any of the younger years, but there were a few pureblood family names that stood out to him. The sixth-year list bombarded him with quite a few unpleasant memories, especially when he saw Ginny Weasley's name. Nervously, his eyes scanned down the seventh year list, wondering if Potter had decided to come back for his last year. He found no trace of him, or of the other Weasley, but Hermione Granger's name stood out to him in particular, followed shortly after by Neville Longbottom, and then his son. As he headed back to his rooms, he knew this year would be nothing short of trying.

**A/N: Hope you liked! A review would be so very appreciated! **


	3. Stunning

**A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews and love. We appreciate it!**

**~o0o~**

"Quidditch is going to be utter shite this year. We have no one…I can't exactly count on Neville on a broom!"

"Ginny, please, can you just stop whinging for one minute!" Hermione turned to her friend as she walked quickly along the main hallway on the first floor of the castle. Ginny was struggling to keep pace with her, even though she was the more athletic one.

"'Mione, I told you to drop the Malfoy thing. It isn't going to be that bad. You would win in any duel with him, hands down. You could probably skive off the class most of the time anyway…" Ginny tried her best to calm her friend down as she tromped in the direction of the Headmistress's office. Ever since that run-in with Draco in Diagon Alley, she had been livid that Lucius Malfoy was teaching a third of her classes. Even her goodbye to Ron had been less than romantic because she wouldn't stop talking about it.

"Isn't that bad?" Hermione spun around on Ginny, stopping both of them in the middle of the hallway, looking at her as if she were the worst type of traitor. "He fought against us in the war. His sister in-law tried to kill your Mum and you and he watched, without an ounce of sympathy, when she tortured me in his house! He gave you that bloody diary and he spawned the most loathsome son and you are telling me it isn't that bad?"

Ginny put her hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright, so it's not exactly ideal…" She watched as Hermione's now much sleeker hair started to frizz from the combination of her fury and magic. With a huff, Hermione turned back around and continued on her path to Headmistress McGonagall's office.

"I had a feeling I might be seeing you before the term started, Hermione. And congratulations on Head Girl. I couldn't have dreamed up anyone better for the job if I tried." Minerva's calm praise stopped Hermione in her tracks and Ginny lingered at the doorway of the circular office.

"Erm, well, thank you, but there is actually something I needed to talk to you about…" Hermione smiled at the complimented, but continued on her mission, her eyes alight with fire once again.

"Does it have something to do with Professor Malfoy?" Minerva raised an eyebrow at the woman she saw as a younger version of herself. She wasn't at all surprised at this visit, and truthfully, she felt nearly the same emotions when Lucius had all but begged for the job.

"It absolutely does! How can you let someone with the Dark Mark teach here?" Hermione asked, almost beside herself.

"It hasn't been the first time, Hermione," Minerva gently reminded her of Severus and Hermione glared.

"That was different! He's killed innocent people, used Unforgivables, considered himself one of Voldemort's most loyal followers…he's a bigot! And to make Draco Head Boy?" She ranted on as Minerva waited patiently for her to finish, sharing a empathetic look with Ginny as Hermione paced across the rug in front of her desk.

"Lucius Malfoy came to me and asked for a position. He is in dire straits and I only did what Professor Dumbledore would have done. He is only here on probationary terms and I assure you that one mistake from him will be cause for immediate termination. As for Draco, even though you might disagree, I believe he is deserving of the badge and that is that." Minerva's tone made it clear that there was no room for negotiation on either matter, which only caused Hermione to look more outraged.

"Headmistress, could we talk about the team because pickings are really slim and…" Ginny tried her best to steer the conversation into clearer waters but McGonagall politely told her they would discuss it "another time."

"I'll see you both at the welcome dinner…and Hermione, I do think that after such a war, it is the best possible time to start building a stronger bond between Houses. Hogwarts has always set an example for the rest of the wizarding world," Minerva ended the conversation. Both girls headed down the staircase, wondering how McGonagall had managed to sound just like Dumbledore as well.

**~o0o~**

"There's so few of them," Neville noted, almost sadly, when the first years filed into the Great Hall. He was sitting next to Hermione and across from Ginny at the end of the Gryffindor table closest to the Professors' seats. Seamus and Dean had decided to come back for their last year as well and were giving encouraging looks to the young students walking past them.

"Looks like maybe fifty in all…" Ginny's eyebrows knit together as she watched their apprehensive faces, knowing it must have taken a lot of trust on their parents' part to send them here after all that had transpired on the grounds mere months before.

Hermione tried to focus on the conversation with her friends instead of at the staff sitting only a few meters to her left and looking down at them. From the glances she did manage to sneak, she saw McGonagall at her new position in the center chair with Hagrid and Flitwick to her left. There were a few other faces she did not recognize. Most of them looked younger, and she knew it was possible that McGonagall had drafted exceptional former students for positions once half of the staff vacated. Trelawney was on the right side of the divide, looking her usual worried and wiry self. And then there was a space between the Divination professor and the man she had been dreading to see for the last week. She didn't dare go for a full look, but the platinum hair in her peripheral vision was enough to ensure of presence.

Before the sorting, McGonagall rose and gave a speech about rebuilding and reuniting that made Hermione and Ginny shed more tears than they were proud to admit, but they were quickly whisked away from Hermione's face when Lucius Malfoy was introduced as the new Potions and Defense Professor. She tried to swallow down her pure hatred for him and managed to finally look at him, knowing the Headmistress was watching her reaction. She was Head Girl, and she knew she had to represent the school in every way, including welcoming a former known criminal as a high-profile instructor.

Lucius did not say a word, but gave an almost imperceptible smile and nodded his thanks to the Headmistress before sitting down, only enjoying a pathetic round of half-hearted clapping before he did so. Hermione vaguely heard Ginny lean across the table and whisper something to Neville about how surprised she was that Draco didn't give him a standing ovation, but honestly Hermione was too engrossed in her own thoughts.

To her utter mortification, Hermione found herself staring at Lucius Malfoy throughout the sorting and not being able to figure out why she was so intent on studying him. He looked almost hollow, as if he was barely able to hold himself upright. His eyes lacked that cold, calculating depth that used to terrify her. The more she snuck glances at him between bites when the feast finally began, the more he just seemed like a man – knocked down from the thorny black pedestal he used to reside on.

After a while, Hermione simply felt confused by his presence, not sure if she would be able to tolerate being in the same room as him every week, but oddly satisfied that he looked different and less like the monster that frequently starred in her nightmares.

**~o0o~**

Lucius did not mind the lack of conversation as he ate his meal. He had grown used to silence with Narcissa at home and was not at all surprised or put off by the fact that none of the other Professors, besides Minerva, wanted anything to do with him. They had all made that repeatedly clear in their first staff meeting that afternoon. He chuckled to himself at the memory of Flitwick visibly paling when he entered the room. Lucius found it ironic that six months ago he would have cursed the man for even looking at him the wrong way, but now he wouldn't dare. He needed this money more than any of them knew and he would not jeopardize his son's last year and prospects of getting a decent job, even with the Malfoy name as a stain on his record.

But besides the food and the glimmer of House pride he felt as he watched the newly sorted Slytherins eat their first Hogwarts feast, he also found his eyes frequently darting over to the Gryffindor table. The group of students he was looking for was easily located with the help of the back of the youngest Weasley's vibrant head. Across from her sat Longbottom, whom Lucius was not looking forward to teaching Defense to after his foolish but ultimately heroic stand against Voldemort. Sitting beside the young man was the young woman Lucius was most curious to get a glimpse of. Hermione Granger was sitting at the very head of the Gryffindor table, Head Girl badge shined and reflecting the light from the floating candles above them.

Lucius watched her off and on all the way through the pudding course. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how little he had interacted with her over the years. Yes, there was the Flourish and Blotts incident with her and the Weasley girl, as well as the Department of Mysteries battle and other occasional run-ins with Potter before the final battle, but he had only ever once stopped to truly look at her. That day was when his sister-in-law had her on the floor of his Manor, carving "Mudblood" into her arm. He had watched her scream and cry and writhe in pain, but she looked completely different now.

Even though the war was over and Lucius had chosen allegiance with family over Voldemort, he still found himself prejudiced when it came to blood status. Now, however, as he looked across the hall at her, the term "mudblood" didn't instantly spring into his mind. In fact, it almost scared him that the first word that came to him instead was "intriguing."

He noted her long hair draped in loose, chestnut waves over her shoulders. Her porcelain face was free from any makeup but the way she kept nibbling on her bottom lip made it flush a deep shade of rose. She had grown up, just as his son had changed before his eyes as well. It almost bothered him that she was so physically attractive, as if she shouldn't have the right to be.

This fascination was why he kept his eyes locked on her, against his better judgment, when her eyes met his from across the room. He saw an instant fear in them at being caught and she quickly turned her gaze back to her friends. But he did not stop watching her when the remnants of food disappeared from the tables and the Prefects and Hermione and his son started to lead the younger students out of the hall.

**~o0o~**

"What is it like in the Head dormitories?" Luna asked with curiosity the next afternoon as she walked with Hermione and Ginny to their first Defense class. Hermione's stomach had been in knots throughout all of her Advanced History of Magic class that morning, especially when she recalled the odd look on Lucius Malfoy's face when they had locked eyes during the welcome dinner. She couldn't shake it from her head.

"Very roomy, actually. And Draco and I have _very _separate spaces…" Hermione replied to her friend, but there wasn't much life to her voice. Most of her focus was on the room a few paces ahead and how she would react when sitting in it and learning one of her favorite subjects from a man she was sure only used magic for evil.

Ginny, noticing her friends' tension, gave the brunette's hand a soft squeeze when they entered the familiar room and the relief was obvious between the three of them when the Professor was nowhere to be found. Hermione took her usual seat in the front, next to Neville. A few moments later, Draco and Daphne Greengrass filed in, along with Hannah Abbot and Dean and Seamus. The more sixth and seventh years that entered and started catching up with each other, the more nervous Hermione became.

"Quiet, everyone."

Professor Malfoy came out of the door leading to his rooms at the top of the small, curved staircase in the Defense classroom. He headed down to the blackboard and with a nub of chalk, started to write 'Nonverbal Spells'. "I know I do not need any introduction to you and I want to make it clear that there will be no discussion of the war or of Voldemort in this class." He turned around and his eyes flew over the small number of students in the room. "All of you lived it and there is no need to re-live it. I am thankful and proud to be a Professor at Hogwarts and that should tell you what you need to know for the time being. If you have an issue being in this class, I suggest you discuss it with the Headmistress."

Hermione noticed that Neville stiffened in his chair, but no one else made a move after his introduction.

"Now, a large part of your N.E.W.T.S will consist of nonverbal spells. Pick a partner and we will practice nonverbal stuns. There is an odd number of you, so one of you will have the great fortune of learning firsthand from your Professor on the very first day," Lucius brandished his new wand and looked around the class expectantly. Not even his son volunteered, being too busy whispering into Daphne's ear. His eyes then fell on the pretty Gryffindor actively avoiding his eyes. "Miss Granger, perhaps? The rest of you, please begin."

He watched her face fall and her body language become defensive the moment he had uttered her name. Soon the room was filled with the scraping sounds as desks were being pushed against walls and positions were being taken. Hermione approached him slowly with her wand lowered.

"Stunning _only_, Miss Granger," Lucius reminded her, almost playfully, as he put some distance between them. Her quiet nod was the exact opposite of his attempt at being friendly.

She found her stance, feet slightly apart and her right leg jutting forward. She raised her wand and he raised his.

"If everyone is ready, you may begin," he instructed before turning his attention back to Hermione. She was halfway through the movement of her wand for a stunning spell, lips tightly closed, when she was thrown back against the wall behind her.

Draco was the first to notice, snickering at Hermione's red face as she scrambled up from the fall. She noticed that the floor and walls had been charmed to feel soft, but the bruising was more to her ego than to her body. She managed a weak stunner back at Lucius, but he blocked it with ease.

"Rusty, are we, Miss Granger?" He couldn't hide his smirk, but only she saw it. After her initial fall, most of the other students were focused back on their silent duels.

Hermione straightened her back and tried to compose herself. His comment irked her-every summer she usually spent hours a day studying and learning new spells to be more than adequately prepared for what was to come, but this summer she had tried to use magic as little as possible. And now she felt utterly vulnerable because of it.

With intense concentration, she managed a fairly potent stunning spell that sent him back against the opposite wall, but with much less force.

"Better," he commented, "But I know it isn't your _best_." Lucius wasn't sure what more he wanted from her. She was doing perfectly well, especially compared to the rest of the class that was fumbling around to his right and making much more noise than was needed for a lesson on nonverbal spells.

As he readied himself once more, he realized that what he really wanted was for her to speak. She had not said a word to him, which, from his previous interactions with her and stories from Draco, was highly uncharacteristic.

Their next round of spells met and produced a cascade of white sparks in the middle of the room. To this he told her, "You need to concentrate."

His instruction was reciprocated with her yelling "_Confringo_!" and now most of the class stopped what they were doing. Lucius diffused the blasting curse with little effort and Hermione's eyes went wide.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor for using a spell in an attempt to cause bodily harm to a Professor. Especially when explicitly told to use _basic stunning spells and nothing else," _Lucius stated firmly and his punishment rendered a few small gasps from the rest of the class.

Still, Hermione did not utter a word. She glared at him before walking over to her desk that was pushed against the wall, grabbed her book bag, and strode out of the classroom.

**A/N: Hope you liked their first real meeting! Reviews are always welcomed!**


	4. Humbled

**A/N: Wow, can I just say I have the best readers? Thanks for the kind reviews that are so engaging! Benkins and I can't wait to hear more from you and we hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**~o0o~**

Hermione didn't hear Professor Malfoy calling after her when she ran out of his classroom. She couldn't hear past the magnified sound of blood pumping in her ears or her black flats slapping against the floor. She almost sought refuge in an empty classroom, but made it to her dormitory seconds before the tears she was desperately trying to hold back starting running down her cheeks.

She sobbed and locked the door behind her, making sure there was a silencing charm against the wall that connected her room with Draco's before allowing herself to completely break down. Crawling onto her bed, freshly made by the house elves, she swore and cried and screamed into her pillow. She hated Lucius Malfoy. She was beyond embarrassed at what she had done – in front of her friends – as a representative of the school. She knew she faced weeks of detention and possibly being stripped of her badge. She had risked it all in one moment over a pompous arse of a man that she shouldn't have let get to her.

_Hermione, what have you done? _She asked herself this question dozens of times as she soaked her pillow with tears until she felt there were none left. Her mind briefly flicked to Harry, and then to Ron. On top of her already rapidly cycling emotions, she felt guilty when she realized she hadn't written him or even attempted to talk to him since the start of term. Admittedly, it had only been a few days, but she still felt like a neglectful girlfriend. With a sigh, she lifted herself up from the bed and rummaged through her nightstand for some blank parchment and a quill.

_Dear Ron,_

Hermione grimaced, feeling almost hollow inside at how the words looked to her, that they held so little meaning.

_Dear__ Ron,_

_I hope things at the Ministry are well. _

She chewed on the end of her quill, making the tip of the feather wet, frustrated at her sudden lack of things to say. If she told him how she felt about Malfoy, or even that something had occurred that had made her upset, she knew he would find a way to the castle with Harry in no time at all.

_The grounds are almost back to normal, thanks mostly to Hagrid, and it almost feels like home again, the way it used to. Classes are fine. What are you and Harry getting up to? I miss you._

She stared at the last three words. She did mean them. In so many ways, she wanted to have him hold her and tell her that it would be alright, or even storm into Malfoy's office and tell him off, so quintessentially 'Weasley'. But that was all. In fact, she had slept so much better now that she didn't have to couple with him every night, even if she felt horrible letting her brain admit it to her heart.

_I love you,_

_ Hermione_

**~o0o~**

Lucius undid the first few buttons of his shirt and sat down in the small, slightly lumpy chair by the fireplace in his quarters. It was nothing like the chair in his study, but it served its purpose. It was late afternoon and he had finished his final class, third year potions, and no one else had gone running out of his classroom after attempting to hex him. All in all, he thought to himself as he gently turned his highball glass in his left hand before taking a sip from it, it had been a better day than expected.

Except, of course, for the Hermione incident. After she had left the room, the rest of the lesson had gone to shite faster than the Ministry had seized his assets after war's end. He had dismissed them early, but was still troubled over her reaction. He had expected something along those lines from the Weasley girl, or even Longbottom, as he had direct connections to them and their parents, but not her. He vowed to have a discussion with Minerva after dinner and devise a suitable course of action; the following day consisted of Advanced Potions with the same lot of sixth and seventh years, and he had no intentions for a repeat performance on her end.

With a grumble, he soon realized his firewhiskey was gone, but he couldn't be arsed to get up for more, and knew he probably shouldn't. The drinking habit he had developed during the last leg of the second war and beyond was something he wasn't proud of. So, instead of summoning more alcohol with a quick flick of his wand, he opted for the stationary on the humble desk by his equally humble bed.

Although he hadn't received one letter from his wife after he moved into Hogwarts nearly a week ago, he could not quell his anxiety from their lack of communication.

_Dearest Narcissa,_

_ Draco has probably neglected to write you, but he is well and looks as happy as I have seen him in a long while. He is becoming particularly attached to Miss Greengrass, which I am sure you probably already know, but no doubt are happy about. It could be a smart match in the future, but it is too early to tell._

Lucius shook his head at what he had written so far. Had their joined lives reduced to this? To only Draco?

_I am considering staying at the Manor this weekend. I still have some belongings I need to retrieve for my rooms here._

The awkwardness of his writing made his stomach churn and pulled him back through memories of their early courtship, when he had no idea how to woo a woman, being only fourteen when she was promised to him.

_I can only imagine you reading this, looking as beautiful as ever._

_Yours,_

_ L_

**~o0o~**

"Hermione, what the fuck was that?"

"Just because your Mum isn't around, doesn't mean you can throw that word around every few seconds," Hermione snapped at Ginny, on edge the moment the redhead found her en-route to dinner.

"Seriously, did you just lose it or something? I mean…you are Head Girl…." Ginny tried her best to keep stride with her friend, who was determined to shrug her off.

"Everyone has their breaking point," Hermione replied through gritted teeth. The two girls entered the Great Hall and took their seats at the Gryffindor table.

"But I don't understand, he didn't do a damn thing. In fact, he kinda seemed alright. Nice about everything….well, at least until you tried to decapitate him," Ginny said bluntly, helping herself to her weight in mashed potatoes.

"How are you so fine with him teaching here? How is everyone so fine?" Hermione glanced accusingly towards Headmistress McGonagall at the staff table, also noticing that Professor Malfoy had not arrived to dinner yet, and thankful for it.

"Not having him here isn't going to change the fact that he was a Death Eater, or that Draco is a prat, or that all of us have scars from the war. Personally, I think he should repent to the very people he tried to harm. He can't think he's above us anymore – Professor or not, he's here to teach us and he doesn't hold much power anymore." Ginny's eyes were fiercely determined when she said this, showing that she would firmly hold onto this stance and nothing Hermione said could change her mind. "And honestly, 'Mione, I'm sick of hearing about how much you hate him. I don't like him either, but hearing you talk about it only day only reminds me of that fact. And I just want to move on."

Hermione did not reply and instead, started eating her meal in silence as familiar faces surrounded her and started doing the same. Deep down, she knew Ginny was right, which she hated, because usually she was _always_ right. Eating as quickly as possible and hoping to get back to her dormitory before the man in question appeared in the hall, she wondered why her feelings of hatred toward him were so strong when he had never been anything more than an annoyance to her before.

**~o0o~**

"That is extremely unusual…and of course, disappointing," Minerva clicked her tongue and tapped her fingers against her wood desk, considering what to do. During dinner, Lucius had asked to speak with her privately and after their meal, she led him to her office where he preceded to tell her what had transpired in his Defense class that afternoon.

"I thought it best to counsel with you before delivering punishment more than the taking away of House Points. She was well aware of what she was doing and I have no desire to spend the rest of term as an invalid," Lucius remarked. He wasn't particularly frightened of Hermione, but he was afraid she wasn't aware of the strength of her magic when she was that upset. "However, I do believe something greater is troubling her."

"She's certainly not the one I expected to come out of this so damaged." Minerva looked severely concerned about the young woman of whom she thought so highly. "Do you perhaps believe she is reacting so negatively to you because of Bellatrix?"

Lucius winced at the unpleasant memory. "I was there, so it is not out of the realm of possibility."

"She's a strong woman and I don't doubt she'll put this behind her soon, but I will be speaking with her. Goodnight, Lucius," Minerva dismissed him from her office, steepling her fingers as she pondered how to approach Hermione, briefly considering saving the matter for the next day. She did not want to punish her, but decided it was best to get it over with and sent for her.

**~o0o~**

Humbled and quiet, Hermione stepped into the Headmistresses' office fifteen minutes later. "You really have to understand that he was goading me…" she started in instantly. Minerva raised her hand to quiet her.

"I spoke with Professor Malfoy a few moments ago and am, quite frankly, mortified at your behavior as Head Girl on the very first day of classes." Minerva's voice was harsh and left no room for negotiation.

"Headmistress, I just couldn't help it…"

"Miss Granger, no one else found themselves inexplicably influenced to curse their Professor…" Minerva raised an eyebrow and formally addressed her, "If you insist that he was 'goading you' as you say, what exactly were his words?"

"Well, first he told me that I could do better when we were practicing nonverbal spells, and then he told me to concentrate…" Hermione blushed, realizing how silly it sounded when she said it aloud.

"Completely normal things for a Professor to say to a student. Anything else?"

"Well, no, but…" Hermione realized how Harry must have felt all of those years, trying to explain to Dumbledore what Draco had done, or what he had said, and no one took him seriously.

"Hermione," she beckoned the brunette over to the chair in front of her desk, her countenance softening a bit, "I know it cannot be easy for you after what you have gone through, but every single member of your class was also a soldier too young, and I do need you to set the example of normalcy and compassion for them. You fought for House Elf rights and on behalf of Remus Lupin, and you have always impressed me with your ability to see the best in people. I am not sure where that trait has disappeared to, but I urge you to find it again."

Hermione nodded, her eyes a little wet as she mentally berated herself for her foolishness. "I also urge you to apologize to Professor Malfoy. You will serve detention with him next Monday night, as he is travelling over the weekend. I would have made it a week's worth, but I'm sure a few hours with him will be torture enough for you if you hate him as much as you demonstrated in class today," Minerva finished, looking sadly at the woman before her, so different from the bright-eyed girl she used to be. She seemed a little broken now – angry and vulnerable, as well.

"I am sorry, really," Hermione said before leaving the office and walking back to her dormitory, having to be content with keeping her anger toward Malfoy to herself.

**~o0o~**

"This is completely asinine," Hermione grumbled to Neville, who was sitting next to her on the alternates' bench on the Quidditch pitch. She was cold, nervous, and angry as shivered in the uncomfortable Quidditch robes Ginny had forced onto her that drizzly morning. It was the first practice heat of the season and it marked the end of the first week of classes. Ginny, as Gryffindor captain, had barely been able to cobble together a decent set of players from within the House, even resorting to using two first years. However, she couldn't stretch the talent through to the necessary two alternates, and Neville and Hermione were drafted.

"Completely. I won't do much good if anyone takes a fall and I have to go in. Last time I was on a broom I blacked out at thirty feet in the air." Neville's voice was shaking and Hermione didn't think it was from the wind chill.

The rest of the week had gone by without much event. After her talk with the Headmistress, Hermione had apologized to Professor Malfoy in Advanced Potions the next day. To her surprise, he accepted it readily and without a cocky smirk. She was also surprised that he seemed quite adept at potions, and certainly wasn't as condescending as Snape had once been when looking over their results at the end of the period.

Beyond that, Ginny was still a bit cold toward her and the letter she had received from Ron mid-week did nothing to boost her spirits. He sounded as if he was immensely enjoying himself at the Ministry, said that he missed her more than he could say, and raved about some of his first assignments. She couldn't help but feel a bit jealous that the return to academia she had so looked forward to was falling miserably flat.

"Oh geez, this is rough," Neville groaned when Slytherin made another goal. Their team, although still makeshift and lacking its previous talent, was much stronger, especially with Draco as captain. Hermione looked up at the action, wishing that Ginny would just catch the Snitch and relieve them of this torture. Her eyes then wandered to the stands opposite them. The Slytherins were screaming and chanting, even though the results of this match counted for nothing in terms of House Cup points. She saw the auburn-haired Astoria Greengrass, waving a hand-made sign with a pathetically terrible stick-figure drawing of Draco that she had magicked to fly around the poster; it made Hermione give a little snort of laughter.

Her amusement died seconds later when she caught the slate blue eyes of Professor Malfoy, just a few seats away from Astoria. She found it hard to tell if he had been staring at her before her eyes met his, but regardless, he didn't alter his gaze. The left side of his mouth twitched up into a small smile and Hermione immediately looked away, pretending to concentrate hard on the gloomy sky above the field. She suddenly felt very odd, and a little concerned at the way her stomach was twisting, almost making her want to seek him out in the crowd again.

**A/N: Thanks for reading!**


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